You've Got Mail
by GirlDrinkDrunk
Summary: Dean's bored and fills in a questionnaire on the computer, with the intention of deleting its revealing contents before anyone - namely, Sam - reads it. Oops. Set just after 'The Monster At The End Of This Book'. Prequel to 'Virgin Territory'.


**This is the first of three stories. Second: 'Virgin Territory'; Third: 'Down Time'.**

**Set just after 'The Monster At The End Of This Book'**

………**//………**

Dean sits on the end of the bed, in front of the TV, and channel surfs for a few minutes after Sam leaves the room to research details of a possible case at the local library. Uninspired with the program choices on the box, Dean turns off the TV and looks around the room for something to pass the time. Spotting the laptop, he gets to his feet and walks over to the round table in front of the window. Pulling the curtains together to block the glare, he sits with his back to the window, opens the computer, and starts to browse online. About ten minutes later, he sees the mail box icon flash in the bottom right corner of the screen and clicks on it. Opening the email, he notices it is for Sam, from a Gail Wilkes. _Stanford friend?_ Dean wonders. As he is navigating the cursor to close the email, he reads the first few lines and realises it isn't personal.

When he has finished reading the email, Dean argues with himself whether to respond to the questions with outrageous answers, so Gail will think Sam's off his tree. With a smile, Dean decides not to; he has another idea. He copies the email to a word document and starts answering them himself. He's not going to respond to the email, or even save the document, it's just a fun little exercise for a bored person.

A lot of the questions are easy to answer, but a few have him thinking. In the end, he decides to answer each one twice: the first time in his normal, easy Dean persona, and the second time more open and honest.

**1. What's the most embarrassing thing you've done when you were drunk?**  
I brought a woman back to the motel room once and passed out on top of her. I hadn't even gotten my jeans undone. She left a very colourful note, thanking me for nothing. Hey, if it wasn't meant to be...  
_Ditto. Luckily that was before I got Sam from Stanford, or he never would've let me live it down._

**2. Name one of your OCD habits. We all have them.**  
Don't ask Sam to fill this in, he's got too many. Mine? My car, and maintaining my weapons.  
_Looking out for Sam. He's my primary OCD habit._

**3. First movie quote that pops into your head:**  
Heeeeere's Johnny!  
_Ditto_

**4. Favorite rock singer:**  
Robert Plant  
_Ditto_

**5. Who was the last person you hugged?**  
That'd be Sam, when we were reunited in Pontiac.  
_Yep. And damned if he didn't grow in those 4 months. He's definitely been beefing up. Lanky but buff, and huge. Moving on…_

**6. Are you bi-curious?**  
No way, man. Soft curves and frisky women all the way.  
_Seeing as though no one's gonna see this…not bi-curious…Sam-curious. Actually, a lot more than curious._

**7. Last book you read:**  
Supernatural — Route 666. Still can't freakin' believe it.  
_Ditto_

**8. Last time you felt really relaxed:**  
Last week in Cleveland. Magic fingers, baby.  
_Yep. I was relaxed and worked up at the same time, if that's actually possible. An hour before, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, and Sam was patching me up. He has the most amazing touch: strong but gentle. I managed to shut out the thoughts while Sam was in the room but, later, when he went out to get food, I allowed myself to remember his hands on me, and how good it felt. That's when I put the first coins into the machine and lay back on the bed. Good thing Sam didn't come back too early. It's awkward enough having to explain a hard-on after a hunt (no one could accuse me of being shy, but I'm not an exhibitionist, either), but if he found me on the bed, stroking my cock..._

**9. Last time you cried:**  
Eck, pass.  
_When I was lying in the hospital after Alastair worked me over. Cas confirmed that I was the one to break the first seal, and that I was the only one who could stop the Apocalypse. A little overwhelmed, in my own defense._

**10. Who is your oldest friend?**  
Jeez, that title has to go to Sam. Pain in the ass that he is.  
_Li'l bro. And he _is_ a pain in the ass. But such a nice ass._

**11. When you forward this to your friends, who is the person most likely to respond?**  
No one, since I'm not forwarding this.  
_Luckily, no one will see this. The 'delete' button is my friend._

**12. Favorite guilty pleasure:**  
Those enticing magic fingers again.  
_Watching Sam as he comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, or when he's only half dressed: shirtless, with wet hair. That's the main reason I let him have the first shower. I have to take care of my reaction to that sight, and the shower is the perfect place._

**13. First movie you saw at the cinema:**  
First 3, actually. Movie marathon: Alien 1, 2, & 3. We were holed up for a few days and dad gave me some money to get Sammy and I out from under his feet. One of the few times that happened. We must've been annoying the crap outta him. I was 13 or 14.  
_Ditto. I remember that Sam was holding the popcorn for the first half of the first movie, and he sprayed the whole box into the air, and onto our laps, when something scared him. I laughed and he gave me a hurt expression before turning to the screen again, but I saw the corner of his mouth turn up, despite his willpower._

**14. Favorite milkshake flavour:**  
Strawberry. I had a mars bar milkshake once, and that rocked. It was caramel and chocolate. Where was that?  
_Ditto_

**15. Have you ever had stitches?**  
That's a good one. That would be a very definite 'yes'.  
_Had them. Given them. Removed them. Torn them._

**16. Do you have a nickname? If so, what is it?**  
No, although Sammy used to call me 'Dee' when he was learning to talk.  
_Ditto. Now there are other things I'd like to be called by Sam._

**17. Were you named after anyone?**  
For the longest time, I would've said no, but now I know I was named after my grandmother. That looks weird. She was cool, though.  
_Ditto_

**18. What do you wear to bed?**  
Boxers and a smile. Unless I'm not alone; in which case, just the smile.  
_Ditto_

**19. Do you pray?**  
I've only done it once. Desperate times…and it wasn't the big dude who answered, it was Cas.  
_I prayed for more time. I prayed for help. I got it, in a roundabout way._

**20. Favorite holiday:**  
July 4th or New Year's. Must be the fireworks. I dunno. They seem to shake me out of a mood, 'cause who can hate fireworks, right?  
_Ditto_

**21. Least favorite holiday:**  
Halloween, for obvious reasons.  
_Ditto_

**22. Think of the person you are closest to. Does he/she have a good sense of humour?**  
Sam? Emo boy? Hmm…depends. He's more serious than me but when you're not expecting it, he'll surprise you, and it makes you laugh louder and harder. Dude can actually tell a dirty joke with a completely straight face, too. Of course, he has to be drunk to tell one of those. I think it's about time I got him plastered again.  
_I like Sam plastered. I can get away with more when he's drunk. I can be more affectionate, and he laps it up, and I like it. I like touching him; just on the arm or shoulder, on the back of his neck or through his hair; touches that linger a second or two longer than normal; touches that a sober person might distinguish and question, but Sam doesn't. And in that time, I can pretend that he wants the same things I do. And after Sam falls asleep, I can get in the shower and let my imagination - and my hand - take me to that place for ten minutes._

**23. When did you last do something for the first time?**  
This job is all about those moments. Well, in the space of a week, I drove a Prius, wore suspenders, drank cleansing drinks, and was a corporate tool-on-the-rise.  
_Ditto. Man, angels are sneaky dicks._

**24. What scares you?**  
Once upon a time, the answer would be 'nothing' but now…most of all, I'm scared of what's happening to Sammy.  
_If I could have one wish, it would be for Sam to lose his powers, and have that damned demon blood gone from his body. For good. I want that more than anything, even more than I want my memory of Hell to be wiped. More and more, I'm thinking we're like Obe Won and Anakin Skywalker. And Bobby's Yoda. Man, that's funny. Yoda in a trucker's cap._

**25. If you could talk to someone from the past, who would it be?**  
If I could choose two people, it would be mom and dad. If I could only choose one, it would be dad.  
_He was obsessive and controlling but I wish I could talk to him about Sammy. With the weight of the world (literally) on my shoulders, it helps to talk to Bobby, it really does, but dad was the best hunter I knew, and (I can't believe I'm writing this) I could use a little fatherly advice right now. Advice, not orders. Talk, not commands. Conversation, not raised voices._

**26. Have you ever been in love?**  
Jeez, do you want me to watch Steel Magnolias, too? Pass.  
_Well, I loved Cassie, but — looking back - I don't actually think I was_ in _love with her. I have been — and still am — _in _love. Wish to hell I could control who I fall in love with. Would make my life a _whole_ lot easier, and less fucked up. It's wrong, I know this, but it's never gonna change, regardless of whether he's with me or not._

**27. Star Wars or Star Trek?**  
Depends on my mood. Right now: Star Wars.  
_Ditto_

**28. Favorite pancake topping:**  
Apple and cinnamon with ice cream and maple syrup.  
_Ditto_

**29. Have you travelled overseas?**  
Nope. No holidays for the Winchesters. Plus, you'd have to knock me out before you'd get me on a plane again.  
_Amen._

**30. If you could say something to the person who sent this to you, what would it be?**  
Don't know the person who sent the email.  
_If I had to say something to it's recipient, though… Sammy. I know we don't say the exact words, preferring the tried and true 'you're my brother', 'I'd die for you', and stuff like that, but I do love you little brother. You're everything to me: brother, friend, conscience, partner, reason, companion, pain in the ass…and something else, but that last thing is something you could never understand or accept, let alone want, so I'll leave it off this list. I would die - actually, _have_ died - for you, and I would do it again without hesitation. There is one more thing. You have to stop this, Sammy. You have to stop using your powers. It's a fast-moving train to a washed out bridge and a thousand foot drop. No good can come from it; you have to realise that. The lives you save from demon possessions aren't worth the price you're paying. It's not even close. And now you can kill demons. It's a hell of a party trick but it's not worth the darkness I see in you. This, as much as my memories from Hell and my guilt over being responsible for the first seal breaking, is why I'm not strong enough to see this to the end. You make me strong, Sammy, and I need you back. You've always been the person that I cared about more than anyone else in the world, and I feel like I'm losing you._

**31. When was the last time you had a hangover?**  
It's been a couple of months. Woke up in some woman's bed feeling like someone tried to open my head like a coconut.  
_Ditto. Come to think of it, the last couple of times I was with a woman, I was drinking kinda heavily. That makes sense, though. I have needs, and if I can't be with the person I want most…_

**32. Favorite colour lingerie: **  
Black. It's just sexier than any other colour.  
_Ditto_

**33. If you could spend a week in another time in history, where and when would it be?**  
Been there, done that.  
_I saw mom and dad in 1973, six years before I was born. That was the mother of all things freaky. I had to watch mom's parents being killed, not to mention having to deal with that bastard Azazel again, but it was awesome as well, seeing mom and dad when they were young and in love. Mom was so beautiful, and a kick-ass chick. And to see dad when he was still a 'civilian'...as I said, freaky. I just wish Sammy could've seen them, too._

Before he can get to question 34, the computer turns off by itself, and Dean stares at the screen for a second. "What the…?" he says, checking the cord connection to the laptop and the wall. Everything's connected properly. Dean pulls the plug from the wall and sits back, still staring at the computer. "Okay, it's okay; I didn't save the document so it's gone. Okay," he says again, reassuring himself. Dean then gets up and opens the front door, intending to get a drink from the vending machine. He looks both ways, trying to remember in which direction it is. After a moment, he heads down towards the reception area and to the walkway between a room and the office, spotting the machine as he rounds the corner.

Walking back inside the room with his open can, Dean sits on his bed again and resumes channel surfing.

Thirty minutes later, Sam comes back, carrying a small box. Dean looks up as he walks in. "Hey. Did you find anything?"

"Apart from pie?" Sam answers, handing Dean the box.

Dean opens it and smiles. "Man, you rock."

"Yeah, I know." Sam walks in between Dean and the TV and sits on the end of his bed. "In answer to your question, yes, but you're not gonna like it."

"When do I ever like it?" Dean responds with a mouthful of apple pie.

Sam turns his head to Dean. "I think we're dealing with witches."

Dean looks over to Sam. "You're kidding me?"

"I know how you love spell work."

Dean shakes his head. "Freaky witches," he mumbles.

Sam walks over to the table and sits in front of the laptop. "Uh, Dean? Have you been playing with the laptop?"

"Well, I don't know that you'd call it playing, _dad_, but I was on the laptop and it just shut down by itself, so I took the plug outta the wall."

"Okay, I'll have a look." Sam starts working on getting the computer up and running again, and Dean finishes his pie, the questionnaire all but forgotten.

Dean turns his head when he hears Sam's "Ha, gotcha". He gets up long enough to steal one of Sam's pillows, and drops it on his bed before lying down to watch TV.

Sam waits for the computer to load. Just as he is about to open a browser window, a 'recovered' file pops up. Sam frowns and starts reading. His frown immediately turns to raised eyebrows, and an amused smirk threatens the corners of his mouth. Then the smirk vanishes and his eyes widen in shock. He suddenly looks down at the keyboard and then lifts his eyes to look at Dean, absorbed in the TV. Looking back at the computer screen, he continues to read, feeling his heart pick up its pace.

_Oh my God_. Sam entertains the possibility that Dean is setting him up, but that thought only lasts a few seconds. Dean's answers are too…too…well, honest. Sam scrolls back to the top, and reads it through again, slower. As he reads, he feels two things: one, he's finding it harder to breathe, and two, he's actually getting hard. _Oh God, this can't end well._

"Have you got it working?"

Sam jumps at Dean's voice. "Uh, yeah," he answers.

Dean raises an eyebrow at some subtle difference in Sam, but dismisses it just as quickly, turning his attention back to the TV.

Sam continues to stare at the screen for a moment longer, and then looks at Dean again. Not wanting to get caught and have to try to explain, Sam looks down. He's willing himself to breathe normally but it's not happening.

_This is surreal_. Sam has had sexual feelings for Dean for years, he just never thought that Dean would feel the same way. As conflicted as he is, his cock isn't, and his erection strains against denim at the very thought of the possibility.

As scared as he is to bring this up with Dean, he can't possibly bury this and pretend that nothing happened. He doesn't have Dean's skill at that. Taking deep breaths to steel himself, he commends his soul to God, looks over to Dean, and makes up his mind to force the issue.

"Dean, do you remember when I was about 10, we went to see those Alien movies at the cinema?"

Dean goes suddenly very still. He slowly turns a horror-stricken look on Sam, and Sam simply turns the laptop so the screen is facing Dean.

Dean is like a deer frozen in headlights for a few seconds, before turning back and looking down. Suddenly, Dean gets up, picks up the car keys, and walks toward the door, with the intention of being anywhere but in that room. Before he can get there, though, Sam blocks the door.

"You're not running, Dean. Neither of us is going anywhere."

"Sam," Dean almost growls in warning, stopping in front of Sam but not looking at him.

"No," Sam answers in the same way, making himself an immovable force in front of the only escape.

"Sam," Dean says with all the patience he can force, "I can't…"

"Dean," Sam responds, and his voice is closer to pleading now. "This has gone on long enough."

Dean risks a look into his brother's eyes. "What do you mean, long enough?"

"Sit down and I'll tell you."

Shaking his head, Dean opens his mouth but Sam pushes him by the shoulders until Dean collapses to sit on the edge of his bed. Sam then pulls the chair up in front of Dean.

Dean still can't look at Sam. In a quiet voice, he asks, "Did you read it all?"

"Yes."

"I'm going straight back to Hell."

Sam sighs. "Well, if this," he says, tapping the screen, "is a one way ride downstairs, then we're both going."

It takes a few seconds for that to register with Dean. He lifts his head and looks at Sam with a frown of incomprehension. "What?"

"You heard me. If wanting your brother sexually means you're going to Hell, then I'm going with you."

A subtle change overtakes Dean's features and his eyes widen.

Sam lifts a finger to stop anything Dean was about to say. Turning the computer back to read, Sam then allows himself a little smile. "You know," he says conversationally, turning back, "I always wondered why you took so long in the shower. Now I know." Sam, feeling bolder now, smirks at Dean.

Dean, however, gives Sam a disbelieving look. "Are you telling me you're okay with this? How can you be okay with this? It's wrong. It's…"

Sam moves swiftly, dropping to his knees in front of Dean, and grasps his arms to stop his inevitable retreat. "I'm telling you that I feel the same way, Dean. I have since before I left for Stanford. It was actually one of the reasons I left." Sam lets that sink in before closing the distance and pressing his lips to Dean's, never letting go of his arms. Dean has a pretty definite 'fight' response, but his 'flight' instinct is in charge at the moment. Dean neither kisses him back nor pushes him away. Sam doesn't push it too far; he's just happy to keep their kiss light for the time being. When Sam breaks the kiss and looks at his big brother, he can see his head and heart warring for dominance, and a heartbreaking insecurity in his eyes. "Say something," he says softly.

After a moment, Dean finds his voice. "For once in my life, Sammy, I'm lost for words."

Sam smiles. "Wow." That gets Sam the hint of a smile. "Dean, I need to know what you're thinking."

"My head's swimming, and my brother just kissed me after finding out that I want him. I…" He looks into Sam's eyes. "This is wrong, Sam. I can't do this to you. You're mine to protect, not to indulge in my sick little fantasies. Jeez, if dad knew, he'd come back from the dead and kill me. Repeatedly." Dean shakes his head slightly and looks down again.

"If dad did come back, he wouldn't touch you. I wouldn't let him."

"I deserve it."

"No, you don't, Dean." Sam punctuates his words by sliding his hands up and gripping Dean's upper arms. "You deserve to be happy. Now, I don't know if I can be the person to make that happen but..."

Dean looks up at Sam suddenly. "You're the only one who can." Seeing Sam's soft smile, Dean sighs heavily. "Are you sure you want this? 'Cause if you're not sure, it's not too late to write this off as just another stupid thing we've done. This is the point of no return, Sammy." Dean frowns and looks down to Sam's arms and then back to his face. "You're shaking."

Sam gives a nervous chuckle. "I just want this so bad, and I'm scared that you'll try to bury these feelings and not give it a chance." He shrugs, helpless.

"We should. It's not right, and we both know it. Jeez, Sam, it's incest."

"It's not normal, but it feels right. And why should we listen to society when we only live on the fringe of society anyway? It's like we live in an alternate universe; not quite on the radar. Who really cares about us and what we do besides us?"

Sam can see the conflict in Dean's eyes. He moves his right hand from Dean's arm and cups the side of his face, running his thumb over his cheek. Dean leans into the caress and briefly closes his eyes. "Kiss me," Sam whispers.

Dean looks at Sam for a moment and then down at his right arm. "Do you think I could have the use of my arms again?" He asks, looking back up.

Sam smiles and moves his hands, placing them on Dean's thighs with a slight squeeze. Dean, having made up his mind, reaches up and rests his right hand at the back of Sam's neck and gently pulls him close. Where the first kiss was light and experimental, this kiss quickly becomes needy and passionate, arms following to cling to each other in a need to get closer. Without breaking the kiss, Sam pushes forward, using his legs as leverage, and Dean falls back on the bed, bringing Sam with him. Feeling Sam's weight, as well as a hardness against his thigh, Dean moans into Sam's mouth and licks along his bottom lip.

Even while Dean's hand moves up from Sam's neck to get lost in his hair, he is thinking more than he probably should. A moment later, he breaks the kiss with a series of smaller kisses, and whispers "Sam" while his lips are still ghosting his brother's.

Sam pulls back a little to look into Dean's eyes. "Don't try to talk yourself out of this, Dean; I won't let you."

Dean gives him a little smile and closes his eyes very briefly. "It's okay, Sammy, I'm not trying to. I was going to ask you a favour."

"Ask," he says, with a deep but gentle kiss.

"Jeez," Dean says, a little surprised. "You actually take my breath away when you kiss me." At Sam's smile, he continues. "I was thinking…I do want this — you — but I'd like to take this a little slowly, at least for tonight. Let's just get comfortable with this new development, okay?"

Sam partially rolls off Dean and his right hand slides down his big brother's body to cup his crotch, while never taking his eyes from Dean's. "_This_ new development?" He asks as Dean sucks in a breath.

"Sammy…" Dean breathes, closing his eyes again at the feeling. It takes all of his control not to thrust up into Sam's hand.

Sam sees Dean's struggle and takes pity, removing his hand and bringing it back to his cheek, running his palm over Dean's stubble.

Dean tries again. "Whaddaya say, can we just get used to this for tonight? It's just…I dunno…I don't wanna fuck this up, you know?"

"Dean Winchester, unsure of himself. With his little brother. I think I like it. It makes me feel like I'm the one in control."

Sam's comment seems to flick a switch, and unsure-Dean makes way for cocky-Dean. "You like that?" Dean's voice changes to a teasing tone, while at the same time growing deeper and rougher, like he's been drinking cheap whisky. "You like being the one in control? 'Cause I could work with that…occasionally."

Sam chuckles. "We'll work out the fine print as we go. But for tonight," he says, leaning down to whisper in Dean's ear, "tell me what you want." Sam licks at a spot under Dean's jaw and then kisses the same spot, drawing a soft moan from his big brother.

Dean moves his head automatically to the left, exposing his neck for Sam. Breathing a little heavier now, Dean answers. "Well, lots of that, to start with. God, that feels good."

A whispered "What else?" and Dean is fighting to concentrate on what he's trying to say. "Sam, you gotta stop, it's too distracting."

"Make me," Sam taunts.

With a growl, Dean grabs an unresisting Sam by his right arm and pushes him over on his back. He immediately takes advantage and straddles Sam's thighs, Dean's arms - either side of Sam's head - supporting his upper body weight.

Sam grins up at his brother. "_You_ in control now?"

"God, I hope so," Dean answers honestly.

When Sam tests the theory by moving his hands to cup Dean's denim-clad ass, Dean narrows his eyes at him. "Why are you making this hard for me?"

"Hard is good, Dean."

Dean takes a deep breath. "Work with me here, Sammy. Didn't we just agree to take it slowly for tonight?"

"I don't seem to recall actually agreeing," he answers, very much enjoying this game. "But we can go at whatever pace you want, Dean, so long as I get to touch you...", drawing his hands from Dean's ass, up and under his shirt, trailing up his well muscled back, and settling on his shoulders, "...and kiss you...", lifting his head to capture Dean's beautiful lips in a sweetly dizzying kiss.

When Dean finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against Sam's right shoulder and just concentrates on breathing. Sam, meanwhile, removes one hand from Dean's now-exposed back to gently rub at the back of Dean's neck, and is rewarded with a low moan and then a small chuckle from Dean. Lifting his head, Dean looks down into Sam's eyes with a touch of shyness. "I know this is morally wrong an' everything, but it just feels like...I dunno..."

"It just feels like the right next step for us?"

Dean smiles, still unsure. "Something like that."

"I know."

Dean suddenly has a lucid thought and looks at the clock by the bed. 4:24pm. "I think we'd better do some work." At Sam's disappointed look, Dean smiles and sits up. "We didn't come here to study the motel's décor, Sam. And, while we're on the subject, what kind of person decorates a motel room with a beach theme in Nebraska?"

Sam gets up enough to lean on his elbows and looks up at Dean. "You having second thoughts already?"

"No, why?"

Sam shrugs. "It just seemed like you got a little spooked by the chick-flick moment a second ago." Sam adds a smile to show Dean it was alright.

Dean chuckles. "I guess being with you means that I'll have to learn to handle chick-flick moments a little better." Dean's grin grows wider as Sam half-heartedly swats at his arm. "Seriously, though, we're here for a job and that needs to take priority." At Sam's nod, he adds, "But that doesn't mean that I can't multi-task." To prove his point, Dean leans down again and captures Sam's lips in a soft, leisurely kiss. Sam grasps the front of Dean's shirt and falls back on the bed, bringing Dean with him, inadvertently deepening the kiss.

A minute later, Sam pulls back a little. "Dean?" He says in between kisses.

"Hmmm…?"

"Lie down on top of me. I want to feel your whole body on top of mine."

"Mmmm…sounds good," he says, granting Sam's wish. When he feels Sam's hard cock straining to rub against his, Dean can't help grinding his crotch down and creating a little torturous friction. "Feels good, too."

"Oh God," Sam responds as his eyes close automatically, and his head pushes back into the pillow. "If you do that again, there is no way I'm gonna be able to keep my promise to go slow."

Dean smiles. "Unsure-Dean wants to go slow. Horny-Dean was the one who was just grinding against you."

Laughing, Sam opens his eyes. "Now you have multiple personality disorder?"

"When it suits me," he answers with a grin.

"Okay," Sam says, trying to mentally shake off the haze of lust and feeling that has consumed them for the past fifteen minutes. "Work now, play later. You with me, Batman?"

Dean grins and kisses Sam one last time. "Okay. Let's go burn some witches." At Sam's look, he adds, "Figuratively, speaking, of course." Getting to his feet, only to walk the four steps needed to sit himself at the table, Dean sits in front of the laptop again.

Sam sits up and watches Dean as he walks over to the table and sits down. "Dean?"

Dean looks up, with a small smile still playing on his lips. "Yeah?"

"Where did you get that questionnaire from?"

Dean looks at the computer. "Oh. You got an email from someone named Gail Wilkes. It was her questionnaire; I just copied it into a word document with the intention of deleting it before you got back." He shrugs his shoulders. "Backfired." He thought of his original question. "Is she a friend from Stanford?"

"Yeah. I get the occasional email from her. I'll get back to her in a couple of days." Making his way over to his bag, Sam adds, "Now, witches."


End file.
